


Figure it out

by Polyhexian



Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [35]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Gen, Humanformers, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: lets get manic
Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859230
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Figure it out

Brainstorm swept an arm across his desk and sent a stack of folders clattering to the floor, slamming the printout flat and leaning up to tear a clear flimsy tacked to the wall down. Over his desk the wall was covered in printouts, photographs, newspaper articles and letters from forensics labs across the country. Across the patchwork collage of clues and infographics, notes were scribbled haphazardly in Sharpie, written so they crossed over paper and the wall itself, frantically scrawled like the writer was on some kind of ever decreasing time limit.

He slammed the flimsy over the printed out photograph with trembling hands, and then tore open his desk, grabbing things and throwing them to the side when they weren't what he was looking for until he found a magnifying glass and returned to the flimsy, layering the photo of the bottom of an old boot with the image of Skids' jacket on the flimsy where the smeared image of a bootprint was barely visible.

Brainstorm's chest was heaving, pupils blown out like he was his old roommate. He lined up the images, before he leaned up and quickly scribbled a series of barely legible notes on the wall where the flimsy had previously been tacked up.

The bootprints matched. He was _sure_ of it. A 1998 Timberland, the heel worn down and with a little nick towards the front of it that matches _perfectly_ ** _._ ** He was _sure_ of it.

He shoved the picture and the flimsy aside and grabbed a pile of letters off the wall, flipping through the soil composition test results for all of the shoes that had been found in Tarn's possession after his arrest. He tore out the results from the 1998 Timberland, found in a trash bag buried under the shed. 

He threw the rest onto the floor with everything else and poured over the composite structure results, and then swiped the track pad on his laptop and brought the screen online, typing in chemicals and sediment percentages, cross referencing makeup with locations on the hobbyist registry he'd found on Reddit.

He froze over one location, recognizing the ominous name of the mountain from an old confirmed CCTV sighting. 

_Grindcore_.

The word stared back at him, small and simple and obvious. 

He pulled up a local news site for the area and skimmed through a series of missing persons searches from the area, mostly for lost hikers. Some body searches, cadaver dog hits…

His phone beeped, drawing his attention for a moment. 

> _Chromedome: havent heard from you in a bit man. you good?_

Brainstorm turned back to the news site, before he saw what he was looking for. A cadaver dog hit on a site riddled with red-orange clay on the north side of the mountain, no dig performed. That was it. That was _it._

He grabbed his phone off the desk and bolted for the door.


End file.
